The darkness was his home, his only friend, his lover. It concealed him and wielded him as the weapon he was made to be. Never once did it fail him when he needed it the most. Never once did reveal him to the world. It was his mask, his identity. 

And now, in the middle of the night, it cloaked him from the light as he crept upon a small one story house. He easily slipped through a forgotten to be closed window and made his way soundlessly through the house. 

This boy was well off by the looks of it. Not rich, but not down in the dirt either. He wondered what it was the boy did to get himself killed, but never did he ever ask. It would mean getting to know his mark and that could make things difficult in the end. It’s not something he needs to happen. 

The assassin found the door he was looking for. Silently he turned the cold knob, pushing the door open slowly. He came to stand at the foot of the bed, his mark sleeping peacefully, unbeknownst to him the danger that lurked a few feet away. 

The assassin, Tao, stepped closer to his mark, a curiosity striking him to know what he looked like. A curiosity that starts it all. Because we all know the saying…The curiosity killed the cat. 

The boy was beautiful. Something Tao never expected. His round cheeks pushed against the pillow making him look like a child. His rosy lips parted for breathing. The way he curled into himself, hugging the sheets around him to say he was lonely. It all made the assassin hesitate as he pulled out his gun. The wonder of what this boy had done to gain a bounty on his head still floated through his mind.

And in his hesitation the boy tired, feeling the intense stare burning through him. His eyes blinked, heavy with sleep, until they recognized an unfamiliar figure standing in front of him. Wide they became, a fear and a question of why filling them. 

They were the same eyes Tao saw many times before. So why now did they make him falter? Why now did they mean something to him other than another payment to his bank account? Why now did his heart race with anything other than adrenaline from another kill? Why now did he hesitate to pull the trigger? 

The gun was still raised to the boys head, the assassins finger hovering over the trigger he knew he had to pull. It was his job. This is what he did. Never before had he been stopped in his tracks because of one’s beauty. 

The gun lowered but his stare stayed strong as he backed away from the frightened boy b